


Every Mile Will Be Worth My While

by Chash



Series: Disney Channel You [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disney, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke fell in love with Bellamy Blake basically at first sight. She's still not really prepared to kiss him on-air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Mile Will Be Worth My While

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of an alt-POV, but mostly just the first scene. Then it's Clarke having feelings about sex.

Clarke has never dated anyone, which she used to be kind of bitter about. She's a smart, attractive, interesting celebrity, and she's had several "boyfriends," so, really, it's kind of cosmically unfair that no one has ever actually gone out with her. At the same time, she's had offers, subtle and non-subtle, flattering and creepy, and she turned them all down. She'll admit she's a little picky. 

She's fifteen when she meets Bellamy, and it feels like--well, it feels like every stupid love song she's had to sing for every stupid DCOM she's ever been in. And it's hard to feel much regret about never having dated anyone else, after that, because why _would_ she, really? 

(Every fifteen-year-old feels like this with their first crush, she's sure. But that's what you're supposed to wait for, right? Someone who makes you feel it.)

Of course, the downside of never dating anyone before falling head over heels for Bellamy Blake in the space of roughly ten minutes is that she doesn't know how to deal with being in love with someone. She spends most of her time with him and feels like a little kid half the time, following him around with hearts in her eyes. _Everyone_ knows, but he either hasn't noticed or is too polite to mention it. And that's fine, really. He's her best friend and he adores her, and he might, eventually, adore her the way she wants him to. And even if he doesn't, he'll always be her best friend. She _knows_ that. He's the loyal type.

Finn's the one who tells her about the kiss.

"Good news for Blake," he says, and Clarke frowns at the script she hasn't even opened yet.

"Did he finally get a good subplot?" she asks, leaning over to look at the page Finn is on. Even without his finger on the line, she would have spotted it immediately, _IAN kisses PENNY_ , right there, in stark black and white. Her mouth goes dry.

"I figured Marcus would never make it happen just to spite Bellamy at this point, honestly," Finn muses, oblivious.

"Yeah," says Clarke automatically, staring at the words so hard she thinks she might light the script on fire. It's not _really_ a surprise, she just figured it would be in the finale or something. Far enough in the future that she would have figured out what to do about all the stupid feelings.

"That's not going to be weird for you guys, is it?" he asks, and he manages to sound both concerned and prying. He has a gift.

"Totally weird," she says, bright. "I'm gonna go make fun of him about his prescience."

Bellamy's dressing room is across from hers, a little smaller than hers, but he still spends more time in there than she spends in hers. He's never mentioned it, but Clarke kind of suspects he didn't really have his own space when he was a kid, and it's kind of novel. 

She's not sure she's ever hated anyone as much as she hates his mother. But she's gone, and he and Octavia are still here, so--Clarke thinks they're better off now. They're going to do fine.

Bellamy's sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his dressing table, pen in his mouth as he reviews the script, and Clarke realizes miserably that she has no idea what she's planning to say to him. The scene isn't actually weird. They're actors. This is their _job_. Clarke has kissed plenty of people on camera. Bellamy hasn't, but he's been doing this for two-and-a-half years now, and he's had to do way weirder things. Like pretending to date that cat that one time. And he's been prepared for a romantic relationship between their characters since he auditioned. This isn't a surprise to him at all.

"I'm actually going to have to give Kane credit for this," he says, mild, not looking up. "That's a new thing, I don't like it." He turns to her, and Clarke feels her fists clench at her sides. If she's going to embarrass herself kissing him, she's at least going to do it _privately_. "What?"

"You have to kiss me," she blurts out.

He shrugs. "It's not going to be a problem. You're acting like it's some huge burden. Do you have a curse or something? Are your lips fatal?"

" _Bellamy_."

"What?" He smiles at her, but Clarke thinks there's a bit of nervousness lurking in his eyes too. "I know it might be weird, but--"

"I meant we need to kiss _now_ ," she says, before she can lose her nerve. "Rehearse it. I don't want the first time I kiss you to be in front of everyone. It'll be awkward. What if we're no good at it?"

It's not an unreasonable request, she knows that. It honestly wouldn't be a bad idea even if she wasn't vaguely worried she'll get carried away and embarrass herself. Stage-kissing is always a little awkward, and Bellamy's never done it before. If she doesn't completely humiliate herself and ruin their friendship, she can maybe give him some pointers.

"Oh," he says, and licks his lips, which is--really inconsiderate of him, honestly. "Yeah, uh--no, you're right," he manages, flush creeping up his neck. "That's a good idea."

"Yeah, it's--we want it to be good, right? For your sister and all her shipper friends."

He laughs, and that does help. He's still her best friend. "Right, for Octavia," he agrees.

Clarke hasn't actually read the script, doesn't even know what happens before the kiss, so she flips it open and scans the page. It's pretty minimal setup, easy, but she still doesn't quite know how to start. It really shouldn't be a big deal, it's not _real_ , but--she's barely eighteen and she's going to kiss the boy she likes. She thinks she's allowed to be slightly less than professional, just this one time.

"So, uh, I get out of the car," Bellamy prompts, and they run the few lines they have, and then he's putting down his script, wiping his hands on his pants, his hand is tilting her jaw up and his mouth is on hers.

Clarke doesn't want the earth to stop, she doesn't want it to be anything. Just because--it's not. It's not really their first kiss, it's just work. They're just acting. But her stomach still swoops and her heard speeds up and she still wants to pull him closer and never let go. This is all she wants, just this, just him.

He lingers for what feels like a long time, for what feels like longer than he _should_ , and when he finally stops, she feels her eyes flutter open and a ridiculous smile blooms on her face when she sees he's barely pulled away at all.

His eyes scan her face for just a second and then he says, "Disney Channel it," making it sound more like an actual, genuine swear than he ever has before. It makes her smile for a second, but then he's kissing her again, and this is the one she wants to remember, because it's _them_ this time, really them. This is absolutely nothing like any of her screen kisses, and she knows it's not because Bellamy doesn't know what he's doing.

He wants her too, and it's hard to kiss him back, just because her mouth keeps trying to grin, and it's somewhat at odds with making out. And she's not going to give up on this, not when he feels so good, pressed up against her, hands firm on her hips, mouth perfect and demanding.

He pulls back at the sound of the set reminder, but he still doesn't really move away. He's smiling even wider than she is, and Clarke wonders if they can pretend they got food poisoning and go home early. She cannot imagine she's going to be even a little bit useful for the rest of the afternoon.

"Yeah, uh," says Bellamy, voice husky as he brushes their noses together. "That was a good idea. That would have been really awkward, in front of everyone."

It's enough to destroy any lingering worry Clarke had, and she throws her arms around him and holds on for as long as she can before they have to go on set, and he holds on just as hard.

It's even better than she thought.

*

Clarke already spends more time at Bellamy's than her own house, so it raises no alarm bells when she texts her mother and says she's staying over. She's pretty sure her mother already thought they were dating; there was a very embarrassing conversation about protection during the first season of the show that neither of them enjoyed at all, and she's pretty sure it was about him. The thought makes her blush now, and she tries to ignore it.

Bellamy cooks while Clarke hangs out with Octavia, but she keeps catching him watching her with this smile on his face and--it's kind of overwhelming, honestly, that he might like her as much as she likes him. He's amazing, taking care of his sister since he was just a little kid, getting by on his own, smart and funny and _kind_ , so kind he's embarrassed about it. And she's just some girl whose mother got her a job where the main requirements were looking cute, being able to carry a tune, and the ability to do ridiculous shit without laughing, and that's most of her life. And she knows there's a lot more to her than that, but most people don't see much past there. Bellamy knows her better than anyone and he loves her, and that's great, but it's still hard to wrap her head around that.

Despite Bellamy's best efforts to convince her it's not necessary, Octavia disappears into her room after dinner and cranks up her music. Bellamy tells her she better not disturb the neighbors and then flops down next to Clarke on the couch, rubbing his flushed face.

"Sometimes I wonder what it's like to _not_ have a sister to constantly embarrass you," he says, with a rueful smile.

Clarke smiles. "Lonelier," she says, and when he puts his arm around her, she snuggles in. "Hi."

"Hey," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"I forget you're actually not even a little bit smooth."

"Shut up. We're dating, right? It's a date. Dinner and a movie."

"If this counts as a date, we've been on approximately a billion dates."

He laughs softly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not a bad thing, just--I've never really done this before," she admits.

"Me neither."

It's not something she's ever actually thought about, Bellamy's romantic history. He was sixteen when they met, which is old enough she would have believed he'd dated people before they met. And she knows he hasn't had a girlfriend since the show started, but he could have had--something. If he'd been hooking up with that makeup girl who has a thing for him on the side, she wouldn't have been surprised. He could have been getting really laid, if he wanted to be.

"Never?" she asks, letting her fingers trace idle patterns on his stomach.

"I've always had O," he says. "She was too young to be home alone, and--" He lets out a soft laugh. "One time I tried to go to a party after she went asleep, when I was in tenth grade. I got about halfway there and felt so guilty I turned around and went home."

Clarke laughs too and looks up at him. "You're really cute."

"I know." He leans down and brushes his lips against hers. "I've never had a girlfriend. I haven't gone any farther than you have. I've made out a few times. That's it."

"So neither of us has any idea what we're doing," she teases.

"Hey, I had an idea. Movie. Dating. I don't hear you offering any other options."

"I figured you'd just, um, want to go to your room."

"Do you want to?" he asks, voice maddeningly unreadable.

Clarke wants him. She _knows_ she wants him. She might be inexperienced, but she has hot dreams about him every few weeks, visions of his mouth on her neck, her breasts, his hands everywhere. It makes her flush, just thinking about it, especially with him here. 

And that makes her think she might not be ready, but that's stupid, right? She trusts him, adores him, wants him. And he feels the same. There's no reason not to be ready.

She doesn't answer for long enough that he kisses her hair. "See? Movie."

"I never said--"

"Clarke," he says, tugging her closer. "I don't care."

"That has got to be Disney Channel," she mutters.

"It's not. I, uh--" He laughs softly. "Don't get me wrong, I want that. At some point. But I want a lot more than that." He's blushing again, and it's so strange. Clarke needs to get used to him feeling the same, because part of her still thinks she might make him change his mind. And that's kind of unfair to him. "Seriously, Clarke. I'm, uh. I'm so crazy about you. This is awesome. Just this."

She looks at him, and he just smiles, a little flushed, but happy, and she laces their fingers together. "I'm crazy about you too," she says. "So, yeah, let's watch a movie."

It's pretty much normal, the two of them on Bellamy's couch, watching _Hunger Games_ on Netflix because Bellamy hasn't seen it and they both have a thing for Jennifer Lawrence, except that instead of kind of gradually shifting toward him over the course of the night, Clarke starts off in his arms and stays there, and he keeps playing with her hand just for the novelty of being able to. Octavia passes a few times, seems sort of vaguely disgusted at them, and finally says, "You guys are _pathetic_."

"Why?"

"I haven't walked in on you making out at all."

"Didn't you not want to walk in on us making out?" Bellamy asks, craning his neck to look at her over the back of the couch. "I'm getting a lot of weird mixed signals from you, O."

"I was gonna sell the pictures online and move out."

"Solid plan. This is why we're going to make out in my room, with the door closed and locked. Also, if you become a paparazzo, I am going to disown you."

Octavia smacks him in the forehead. "Good night, dumbass."

They finish off the movie, Clarke only half-paying attention as Bellamy absently toys with her hair. She's almost asleep when the credits start rolling, and she reluctantly stretches and sits up.

Bellamy is watching her. "Do you want me to, uh--I can sleep out here like I usually do."

"No, that's okay," she says, standing and tugging him up. He trips a little, laughing, and Clarke just leans up to kiss him again, easy when she isn't thinking about it. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but he squeezes her hand and lets her take the lead, opening his mouth for her and not making any moves of his own.

"Bellamy," she says, smiling against his lips. "I really want to make out."

"Me too," he says. "But I meant that thing about not making out in front of my sister." He leans in for another kiss, quick but firm, and then grins. "We can totally make out in my room, though. I just don't trust Octavia to not take pictures."

"It's so sad when you can't even trust your own sister," she teases, and he shrugs.

"I raised her, I know how she is. Seriously, go brush your teeth and get ready for bed or whatever. We still have work tomorrow."

He moved into the master bedroom after his mother left, so he's got his own bathroom attached, which he disappears into. Clarke's toothbrush and toiletries are in the main bathroom, and she washes her face and brushes her teeth and stares at herself for a while. She and Bellamy have never slept in a bed together, but she's passed out on him plenty of times, and she likes it. Why is all this stuff scarier when she knows he wants it too? Instead of when she feels like she's getting away with something. It's not like it isn't exciting too, anticipation coiled low in her belly, but--she's never done this on purpose before. It feels a lot easier to screw up.

Bellamy always makes her take his room when she stays over, going so far as to actually carry her in even if she's passed out on the couch, so she's pretty familiar with the setup. She finds the shirt of his she likes to sleep in, hidden in the back of his closet, so he won't put it somewhere she won't find it, and by the time he gets out of the bathroom, she's under the covers, feeling fairly normal.

"Where the fuck did you find that shirt?" Bellamy asks when he comes out of the bathroom. "I haven't seen it in months."

"I stole it," she says, with no contrition. "It's my favorite one."

"Because it's soft and amazing," he grumbles. He kicks off his pajamas, leaving him shirtless in tight boxer-briefs, and Clarke can't help staring. He grins. "Not that I sleep in t-shirts, lucky for you. You get to check this out." He gestures to his chest, making her smile, and then crawls in next to her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "So, you want to tell me what's up?"

Clarke smiles. "Probably. You are my best friend, I don't have anyone else to talk to about this shit."

"You should get more friends." He tugs her in and noses her hair. "Seriously, if you need me to back off, I will. All evidence to the contrary."

"No, it's not that. I like this part. I just--I'm overthinking everything. I don't know how to be someone's girlfriend. Tell me what guys want in girlfriends. You're a guy."

He laughs. "Are we pretending for some reason I'm not the boyfriend?"

"It feels more normal to ask you for advice about guys in general, not about you."

"Okay, so, guys--all guys, generally, obviously, not just me--like you for you. They want to date you because they're already into you, and they like you just how you are. They don't want you to be a different person to date them, and they don't want you to stress out about it. They also want to make out with you, and would eventually like to have sex, but they figure that'll happen when it's time. They like long walks on the beach and--"

Clarke laughs and snuggles closer. "You're such an asshole."

"It's all true," he says. 

"I know. That's the stupid part. I just don't know what to _do_. How dumb is that? I've been wanting to go out with you basically since I met you and now that I am I'm just--I don't know where to start."

He's quiet for a minute, and then he pushes her onto her back, gentle, and leans in to kiss her, long and slow and deep. And it feels like a great place to start, honestly.

She lets her hands wander over his skin, feeling the muscles on his chest and back, and it's mostly familiar, not--it's _Bellamy_. She knows him. He's still her best friend.

"Better?" he asks, voice rough.

"You just wanted to make out," she teases.

"You said you did too."

"I did." She buries her face against his neck. "Sorry I'm--I'm so fucking happy, I don't know why I'm being so weird."

"You don't want to fuck it up," he says, as if it's obvious. "So it's kind of great for me. You like me so much you're worried about doing something wrong."

"And you're not?"

"Give it a week. We can switch off or something." He flops onto his back, looking at the ceiling. "I don't know. It helps you're kind of freaking out. Then I can just reassure you."

"As long as I'm helping," she says, but she is smiling. "I've just--it's all new."

"I know. So go to sleep and we'll figure it out later."

"What time is it?"

"Uh, ten-thirty?"

"We can make out more first."

He laughs and tugs her on top of him. "If you insist."

*

Bellamy's alarm wakes them up at five the next morning, and he makes an irritable noise, turns it off, kisses her hair, and rolls out of bed. Clarke watches as he stumbles into the bathroom, and then she decides--she could stand to just think less. If she does something wrong, he'll tell her. 

"I'm always fighting your sister for the other shower," she says, when he raises his eyebrows at her. "Yours is big enough for both of us, right?"

"If you're naked this might not actually save us any time," he says, looking her up and down, eyes lingering on her bare legs. "But, yeah, obviously, of course. Come on." He leans over to fiddle with the shower, apparently unconcerned, but he's still just wearing boxers, so Clarke can see the blush on his neck.

"Are you sure?"

"You aren't going to be surprised or offended when this turns me on, right?" he asks.

Clarke laughs. "I'd be more surprised and offended if it didn't, honestly."

That gets him to grin, and he leans down to kiss her. His mouth tastes a little stale, but it's warm and affectionate and more than a little distracting. "Then, yes, please get naked and let me check you out. Just remind me my sister is here and we have work so I don't get too carried away."

She tugs off her shirt and is gratified when he can't actually take his eyes off her chest. It's not really a surprise, but--well, it would kind of suck if her boyfriend _didn't_ want to stare at her when she's naked.

She slides off her underwear too and steps into the shower, adjusting the temperature a bit while Bellamy is _still_ just kind of slack-jawed.

"Your sister is here and we have work," she says, smug, and that gets a laugh out of him.

"I did warn you," he says, rueful, and then he steps out of his boxers. 

Clarke has no real-life experience with naked guys--or naked girls, for that matter--but she's not completely ignorant. When she was trying to figure out her sexuality, she watched some porn, and she still watches it from time to time, when she can find stuff that doesn't make her feel gross. She knows what to expect from naked people, generally.

But Bellamy is still kind of intimidatingly hot naked. She knew he was ripped, broad shoulders and chiseled abs, but it's a lot to take in, all together. His dick is large enough to make her feel simultaneously nervous and excited, already curious about how he might feel in her hands or mouth or inside her. Which is good. She might be weird about the whole dating thing, but she knows she wants him. A lot.

"Still good?" he asks, voice a few octaves lower than usual.

"Yeah," she says, and he steps into the shower and pushes her up against the wall for a messy kiss that's all heat and teeth, the most passion he's let himself show, and Clarke presses back just as close. He's hard against her hip, and her fingers find their way around his dick, making him groan against her mouth.

"Clarke, work," he says against her neck. "We really can't--fuck."

" _We're_ not going to," she says, finding herself grinning. "I'm just--"

He catches her wrist. "You don't have to," he assures her, even though his voice is already wrecked.

"I know."

She kisses him again, and he puts his hand over hers to guide her, show her the right way to move. It doesn't take long, which makes her feel a little smug and Bellamy clearly kind of embarrassed.

"I do have stamina. I think."

Clarke nudges his nose with hers. "It's fine. We're in a hurry."

He looks even more sheepish. "Yeah, uh, I really want to--I don't know if we have time. I don't really know what I'm doing so--"

She pecks him on the cheek. "You can get me later. It always takes me a while with my hands, so--" 

"Work and my sister."

"Exactly." She grabs shampoo, but Bellamy grabs her and kisses her one more time.

"You're awesome and I love you," he tells her. 

"You're just saying that because no one else has ever touched your dick," she teases. "Come on, I'm trying to get clean here."

*

Work is easier, the second day. She still finds herself grinning stupidly every now and then, when she catches Bellamy's eye or thinks about him, or he brushes his hand against her back as he passes her. Everyone already thinks they're dating, so no one actually manages to put the two things together. She's just in a good mood, and even that's apparently less alarming than Bellamy being in a good mood, because Clarke is generally more cheerful than he is.

Basically the entire cast and crew asks her what's up with him.

"He was happy yesterday too," Jasper says, darkly. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Clarke says. "Maybe he's just in a good mood."

"He's never in a good mood."

"He's in a good mood all the time! Okay, not _all_ the time," she admits, when Jasper's dubious look is too much for her to really argue with. "But he's a happy guy."

"He just likes you," Jasper says. "He barely even smiles at the rest of us."

"Maybe something good happened with his sister. Or he's got a good offer for a role after the show. Or he's actually a happy person and you guys are just finally seeing it. I don't know. Why don't you ask him instead of me?"

"Because I don't want to piss him off and screw it up."

Bellamy flops into the seat next to Clarke. "Hey, Jasper."

" _See_?" says Jasper.

"What?" Bellamy asks, mild.

"He thinks you're in a good mood. And he's scared."

"Huh." He puts his feet in her lap. "That's good to know. I can use that."

"I don't know what you're talking about, he still seems like an asshole to me," Clarke tells Jasper, patting Bellamy's ankle. "If this is you in a good mood, I don't want to know what a bad mood looks like."

"I love you too," Bellamy says, and Clarke flashes him a quick glare, because he's said it _twice_ and she hasn't managed to say it back, and she feels bad. And she can't say it _now_.

He just grins at her, and Jasper throws his hands up.

"I don't know why I try to talk to you guys."

"Everyone thinks you're on drugs," she informs Bellamy, once Jasper has gone. "I think Kane thinks we're both on drugs."

"Well, peer pressure's a thing. You're a really bad influence on me," he says. He offers her half a smile. "Octavia says she's sleeping over at a friend's tonight. I think she's trying to be nice, so I'm trying to encourage her. You're welcome if you're not doing anything else."

Clarke bites back on a huge smile, looks around and sees too many people wandering around, working, to do anything more intimate than squeezing his ankle in her lap.

"When was the last time I _didn't_ hang out at your place on a Friday?" she asks. "It's not like I have any other friends."

"Cool," he says. "Run these lines with me, okay?"

*

It's clear Octavia was telling the truth about not being home, because her cats come to greet Clarke and Bellamy noisily when they come in.

"Yeah, yeah," says Bellamy, leaning down to scratch them both behind their ears. "I know, you're starving to death."

Clarke watches as he goes to the kitchen, trailed by the cats, watches as he gets them food and putters around the kitchen, getting dinner started. It's familiar, the same thing they've been doing for years, and it's probably okay, that she's not used to everything, after only a day. But she _is_ happy, and he is too, and they're not going to stop being together. She's not going to screw this up.

She goes and sits on the counter next to him in the kitchen. "So, do you want to get dinner with me? And watch a movie?" she asks.

"That sounds like a date."

"Exactly like a date."

"Am I cooking this dinner? Because it's not much of a date for me if I do all the work."

"Do you really want me to cook?" she asks. "I can, but you've had my cooking. If you want me to provide for you, we're getting takeout. But I'll totally pay for it."

He laughs and leans down to kiss her. "I think I'll manage. But you can help. You're going to need to learn to cook eventually."

"Why? I've got you to cook for me. Besides, I'm rich, I could hire a cook if I needed one."

"You're not hiring a cook," he grumbles. "It's a waste of money and it's creepy rich-person stuff and--"

Clarke hops off the counter and presses against his side. "You're really easy to wind up, you know that?"

"God, I don't even know why I like you," he says, and of course makes her help with dinner.

They watch an episode of Parks and Rec while they eat dinner, and Clarke does dishes while Bellamy fools around trying to find an actual movie to watch on Netflix.

"We can just keep going with Hunger Games," he says. "They have the--"

Clarke climbs into his lap and kisses him, and it only takes him a second to recover and kiss her back, his hands sliding up under her shirt to pull her closer. It's hot and wet right from the start, Bellamy all enthusiasm, apparently not worried she's not sure about him. Not that he needs to be, of course--Clarke's kissing him back just as hard, her hands sliding under his shirt, raking over his stomach.

"Clarke," he says, desperate, and Clarke laughs.

"This makes me feel a lot better than zen, too-cool-to-be-stupidly-horny Bellamy, by the way," she says, tugging his shirt off.

"I was stupidly horny, I just--" He grins and kisses her again. "I wasn't expecting you to put out on the first date anyway. You got your sex-ed from the Disney Channel, so--"

Clarke shoves him gently, and he catches her mouth for a much longer, deeper kiss, one that makes her toes curl. Bellamy kisses her like it's all he ever wants to do, and it makes her head spin.

"I owe you," he says, tugging on her shirt, but not taking it off until she pulls away and helps. "If you want to collect."

"I kind of want to wait for, like, _sex_ ," she admits. "But you could--"

"We can wait on everything, but I am going to feel kind of bad if I get orgasms and you don't."

"No, um, you can definitely get me off," she says, trying to reign in her blush. "I don't mind."

He laughs and picks her up as he stands. "Well, if it's going to be such a hardship for you," he teases.

"Lie back and think of England," she agrees, and he deposits her on his bed. She looks up at him, messy hair and freckles and giant grin, and she says, "I love you too," without thinking about it.

"You just want me to get you off," he says, but his next kiss is sweet and slow. "I know you do," he murmurs as he settles on top of her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Honestly, I kind of want to see what you come up with," Clarke says. "What do _you_ want to do?"

He laughs and nuzzles her neck. "I'm a nineteen-year-old virgin, assume I want to touch you everywhere."

Clarke still has trouble remembering he has as little experience as she does, even though it makes total sense. He was waiting for her, just like she was waiting for him.

"So--go for it," she says, and he looks at her for just a second before his mouth drops to her neck and his hands go to her jeans. He pushes them down and she kicks them off, and then he pulls back to look at her. She's not wearing anything fancy--she keeps a few clothes here, but she doesn't really own fancy lingerie, so she's just in a plain nude bra and cotton boyshorts. With polka dots. 

On the other hand, if she saw a girl she wanted to sleep with in this outfit, she'd be pretty excited, and Bellamy's definitely staring.

"You are way too hot to be on the Disney Channel," he says, and leans in to press his mouth against her breastbone. "You're gonna make so many girls happy when you come out."

Clarke laughs, squirming a little as his mouth moves lower. "Because they have a role model they can look up to?"

He pushes the cup off her right breast, nuzzling and then kissing it. "More realistic fantasies," he says. "I'm gonna totally embarrass myself trying to get your bra off."

"You just push it together, it's a _hook_ ," she says. "Don't guys' clothes have hooks?"

"Not really." He reaches behind her and manages without too much trouble, and Clarke shrugs the bra off. "Okay, movies told me that would be harder." He slides his hands up her sides so he can cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs right below her nipples. They harden almost instantly, goosebumps rising on her flesh, and Bellamy leans in to suck one into his mouth.

"Fuck," she breathes. "I mean, uh--yeah, no, fuck. I need real profanity. That's--" Her hips rub against his leg of their own accord, and she's wet like she doesn't remember being before this, wild with it. She still doesn't think she's ready for sex, but it doesn't feel as intimidating as it used to. Bellamy's hands are just a little rough, warm, perfect, and she feels _so good_. "Fuck, Bellamy."

He laughs and swirls his tongue around her nipple. "I'm really glad you're as into that as I am," he says, pushing his thigh back against her cunt, giving her some of the friction she's craving. His thumb flicks her other nipple, and she whimpers.

"I'm going to need you between my legs really soon," she admits.

"Yeah?"

She swallows hard as he squeezes her nipple and it's like a fucking direct line of heat to her cunt. "Please, Bell."

He drops his forehead between her breasts with a soft laugh. "You know this is the fucking hottest thing that's ever happened to me, right?"

" _Please_."

His fingers hook in her underwear and tug them down and off, and he licks his lips as he settles between her legs. "So, um, this is your clit, right?" he asks, rubbing it with his thumb, soft and experimental. Her hips jerk and he laughs. "Uh, yeah, okay, I'm guessing that's your clit." He settles one arm over her hips, holding her down, and leans in to lick over her. 

Clarke's eyes slam shut and she whimpers. She has fantasized a lot about people going down on her, even sometimes lets herself think about _Bellamy_ doing it, but she didn't really know what it would be like, the heat of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue. He slides a finger inside her, and what he lacks in experience he makes up for in curiosity and enthusiasm. 

"I can take, like--three," she says, breathless. "I want--more, come on."

He doesn't make her say it, just obeys, letting her fuck herself on his hand as he keeps working her clit with his mouth. She goes back to her breast, twisting her nipple between her fingers, and she's so fucking desperate, whole body on edge with the need to come.

He crooks his fingers up, experimental, and that's enough--she comes in waves of heat, gasping out his name. He knows enough to keep going, pulling her though the orgasm, and he doesn't stop until she tugs him back up to her for a long kiss. It's strange, tasting herself in his mouth, but she kind of likes chasing the traces of it with her tongue.

"So, uh, that went okay," he says, when she finally lets him go. He's grinning, and his hair is a mess. She hadn't even realized she was grabbing it, but in retrospect, she definitely did.

"Yeah, thinking of England really works," she teases, and he kisses her neck with a laugh. 

"I'm glad you figured out something to make it bearable."

"God, you're still mostly dressed," she realizes, hands going down to the fly on his jeans.

"It's fine, I owed you," he protests, but Clarke shoves his pants and boxers off anyway.

"I've never sucked a dick," she points out. "That's definitely worth trying, right?"

Bellamy flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Uh, well, you know. If you want to, I'd be a jerk to stop you, right?"

"Right," she agrees, and wraps her fingers around him.

*

In the morning, she wakes up with Bellamy pressed up against her back, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, like he doesn't want to let her go. Which is obviously sweet and all, but she kind of needs to go to the bathroom and probably needs to go home at some point, since she's running out of spare clothes and she hasn't seen her parents in two days. Not that they're worried; she's texted them, and they know where she is, but still. They're going to notice that she's hanging out with Bellamy even more, and--well, they aren't going to care, but she still isn't sure how to tell them. They already basically know.

She tries to pull away and he makes a soft noise of protest and noses her neck.

"Bell, I have to do shit," she says, turning in his arms. "I need to go to the bathroom and tell my parents I'm not dead."

"In the bathroom?" he asks, with a warm, sleepy smile. "Do you really have to call them from the bathroom?"

"Shut up." She leans in for a kiss. "If you wake up in the next two minutes, you can come shower with me. Otherwise I'm going home to have my mother actually be right about how I spent two days hanging out with my boyfriend for the first time ever and you can shower by yourself."

He staggers in while she's washing her face, and he drops his forehead onto the back of her neck. "It's unfair of you to use nudity to get me out of bed."

"You know you get to see me naked basically any time you want now, right?" 

"Give me a couple weeks for the novelty to wear off." He wraps his arms around her waist and props his chin on her shoulder. "Are your parents going to keep letting you stay here?"

"They think I've been sleeping with you since the first season, so--yeah. Plus I'm eighteen and I'm getting my own place as soon as the show ends, so if they're really pissed, I'll just get my own place sooner." She plants a kiss on his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," he says, and gives her one more squeeze. "It's the Disney-Channel best."

She shoves him away and he grins and gets the shower going, and Clarke has to admit, it really is the Disney-Channel best.


End file.
